


Please Come Home

by breadmakesyoufat



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-21
Updated: 2015-03-21
Packaged: 2018-03-18 21:04:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3583890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/breadmakesyoufat/pseuds/breadmakesyoufat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Clarke realizes that weakness or not, some emotions are too strong to be snuffed out. (post 2.09; spoilers for that episode)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Please Come Home

They’d only been gone a few days, but Clarke was already struggling to keep her walls up, as her heart and mind panicked from within. She’d told Bellamy to go infiltrate Mount Weather, even when her heart was crying for him to stay. She’d told him that it was worth the risk, him dying, lying to try and convince herself it was true. When she watched Bellamy leave with Lincoln, not looking at her even once as he left their camp, Clarke nearly called out to him, but managed to reign it in until they were out of sight. Love is weakness. She was being weak. This needed to stop if she wanted to get through life on this planet alive, save her people and keep them alive, like Lexa was doing for hers. What they needed was a strong leader who could make the tough decisions, not some weak girl who couldn’t let go of one person in order to save the lives of many.

Two days with no word from Bellamy or Lincoln had her worried, as much as she tried not to be. She was worried the mission didn’t go as planned, that they were captured or killed. She didn’t tell anyone how conflicted she was feeling, even Octavia, who was having no problem being openly upset at Clarke’s decision to let them go, and worrying about Lincoln constantly. No, she suffered for her decision the most at night, laying on the cold ground, missing her smirking co-leader who would normally lay down near her. She hadn’t slept properly in since they left.

But overall she managed to keep her emotions in check. That is, until they returned on the third day.

She was sitting near Lexa’s tent, watching the people in the camp mull around, when she heard Octavia yelling her name. She quickly ran towards the camp entrance to see what was going on, and immediately felt the ground fall out from underneath her when she laid eyes on him. Lincoln was stumbling through the camp entrance, Bellamy leaning on him heavily with one arm over his shoulders for support, his other hand holding his side firmly. She’d never seen him quite so pale, and the side of his shirt was ripped viciously and with the amount of blood staining the cloth and his hand that was gripping the fabric, she could only imagine the wound being just as gruesome. 

Octavia was crying as she ran up to them, reaching up and touching both her hands to the sides of Lincoln’s face, taking in his appearance. He was smiling weakly at her, saying something that Clarke couldn’t hear from where she was, but it made Octavia reach up and kiss him firmly on the mouth. They were both filthy and had cuts and what looked like burns on their exposed skin, and the more Clarke looked at them, the more her walls came crashing down.

“I did this…” she vaguely heard herself whisper, her legs frozen in place but wanting desperately to run to Bellamy. It wasn’t until he looked up wearily, searching for her, and their eyes connected that Clarke felt herself fully regret what she had done. She expected him to hate her fiercely, after what she’d said to him before he left for Mount Weather. God knows she hated herself for it more than anything in this moment. But when their eyes connected, the first thing she saw was exhaustion radiating from him. His soul looked tired, if that made any sense, but she could feel it. Then she saw relief, briefly, as if he was worried something had happened to her while he was gone. Then he put his wall back up, and looked away, towards his sister who was just starting to pull her attention from Lincoln to see her brother.

Clarke managed to get her legs working once he looked away, submerging herself into full doctor mode.

“What happened?!” She called as she quickly moved over to them, taking in Bellamy and Lincoln’s appearance once she was closer.

“Reapers.” Lincoln said plainly, shifting his hold on Bellamy’s waste to help keep him upright. “The Mountain Men knew we were planning something, somehow, and had them gathering more densely around the entrance to the mountain. We didn’t make it far before we were swarmed.”

Clarke’s eyes had grown wide. “How could they know you were coming? There’s no way…” Guilt hit her hard once more as her gaze shifted back to Bellamy, who was now nearly doubled over and was breathing heavily, his head bobbing slightly with the effort of standing. “We can figure this out later. Right now I need you both to get to my tent so I can take care of your wounds”

Lincoln nodded, but Bellamy didn’t acknowledge her at all. Clarke moved over to his other side, gently taking his hand from his wound, which was barely applying any pressure at this point anyway, and lifted his arm over her shoulders so she could help Lincoln get him to a bed. She felt Bellamy flinch and then tense up when she touched his hand, sending a shockwave of pain up her arm and into her heart. She was sure if he didn’t need her to walk, he would have pulled away entirely.

‘I did this’ she repeated to herself, internally this time, gritting her teeth and leading them both to her work station.

_________________________________________________________________________

As soon as Bellamy hit one of the med bay beds, he promptly passed out. Clarke directed Lincoln to sit on one of the other beds nearby, aided by Octavia, while she took care of Bellamy first. Pulling back his torn shirt, she grimaced at the hole torn through his skin. 

“What did this?” she quietly asked, her fingers hovering over his ragged skin.

“A reaper nearly speared him through the middle, but he managed to move at the last second. Got clipped by the blade instead of the alternative” Lincoln answered, looking over at Clarke.

Clarke nodded numbly, turning away from Bellamy to wash her hands and gather the supplies she needed to patch him up.

She worked silently, focused on the task at hand. It took her a while to wash all the dirt and grime from his major wound, disinfecting it thoroughly. Luckily the bleeding had mostly stopped on its own, but not before he’d lost a lot of blood. She stitched him up as best she could, applying a large bandage patch to his side and wrapping tensor bandage around his middle, with some difficulty, to keep it in place.

Sighing and wiping the sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand, she turned to look at Lincoln. He was still sitting on his bed, feet dangling off the side and back against the wall, except Octavia had moved at some point to curl up beside him on the bed with her head in his lap. She was smiling gently with her eyes closed, seemingly asleep, while Lincoln slowly ran his one hand over her head, soothing her and enjoying the feel of her hair between his fingers. Clarke watched them for a few long moments with a sort of cold yearning in her gut before looking back down at Bellamy, who was still out cold, but looking a little less pale than before.

‘If he ever forgives me for this, it’ll be too soon’ she thought bleakly, absentmindedly reaching out and running a hand over his forehead to move some hair from his eyes. ‘If he had died out there thinking I don’t value his life…’ she visibly shuddered and pulled her hand away as if his skin stung her.

Turning back to Lincoln, she cleared her throat enough to get their attention. Octavia’s eyes opened and she sat up, moving to sit beside Lincoln as they both looked at Clarke.

“He’s lost a lot of blood, but I’ve cleaned out the wound and patched him up, so he should be awake in the next few hours and we can get some food and water into him.” Octavia seemed to relax at her words, the tenseness in her posture visibly decreasing “Lincoln, I need to look at that gash on your head. Is there anything else that I’m not seeing?”

He shook his head silently, reaching over to hold Octavia’s hand in his. “No, just my head that’s hurt. Everything else will heal on its own.”

Clarke nodded, going over to grab fresh supplies from her bag and washing her hands of Bellamy’s blood. “Then let’s get you taken care of.”

_________________________________________________________________________

It was nearly nightfall when Bellamy finally woke up. 

Clarke hadn’t left her tent all day, finding reasons to stay near him and frequently check his condition. She was just finishing up washing the dirt and blood from his face with a cloth and some water when he stirred, causing her hand to freeze, the cloth gently touching his cheek. She watched with baited breath as Bellamy’s face scrunched up in discomfort, a small groan bubbling up from his chest as he shifted his weight slightly on the bed.

He didn’t look at her immediately, instead staring at the tent roof, until Clarke silently took the cloth from his face and put it back in the bowl of dirty water beside the chair she was sitting on. That’s when his gaze shifted to hers, their eyes meeting again like they did when he first came into the camp, broken and bleeding.

‘Because of me’ she reminded herself, and something must have shifted on her face, because Bellamy reacted with a small smirk.

“That bad, eh Princess? Tell me straight, am I going to live?”

His voice was gravelly, joking, but not confident. He was guarded, but trying to act like everything was fine between them. She knew him better than to believe that.

“You’re lucky Lincoln got you back here when he did, honestly.” she said quietly, no hint of humour in her voice, which made him frown slightly and look away. An uncomfortable silence fell between them, Bellamy avoiding Clarke’s gaze, and Clarke just studying his cut and bruised face like it she wanted to commit it to memory.

Finally Bellamy sighed loudly and turned his head to look at her. “Are you just going to stare at me all night? I know I’m handsome, but don’t you have something better to do?”

He was trying to deflect again. Be snarky. Give her an out, perhaps. 

Clarke smiled sadly, which seemed to make Bellamy uncomfortable, because he returned his gaze to the ceiling.

“I’m sorry, Bellamy.”

Her voice was barely a whisper, but so heavy with emotion Bellamy found himself looking at her again, studying her face this time. 

“I didn’t…” she starts, a lump forming in her throat and suddenly making it hard to speak. Clarke’s gaze turns to the ceiling, trying to stop herself from crying and not succeeding. “I didn’t mean what I said. Before you left. I never should have let you go to Mount Weather. I regretted it as soon as you were gone and spent days trying to convince myself that it didn’t matter, but…”

Her gaze falls back to his, eyes watery, her bottom lip trembling ever so slightly. Bellamy’s hands were itching to reach out and comfort her, but he refrained until she was done. He needed to hear this.

“When I saw Lincoln all but carrying you into camp and the relief I felt that you were back alive I-….I’m so-…so sorry” her voice deteriorated and cracked at the last word, choking it out as tears began to trail down her face, her eyes never leaving his.

Bellamy remained silent and still, just watching her, his hands grasping at the blanket underneath him. Her guilt was tangible as she looked away to wipe the tears from her face, breathing deeply to try and compose herself somewhat.

“You broke my heart, Clarke.”

His voice was small. More delicate than she’d ever heard it before. Her head whipped up to look at him, checking to see if he’d actually just spoken at all. His eyes were downcast, looking at his fingers while he played with a loose string on the blanket beneath him. She remained silent but looked at him with huge, glossy eyes, the tears starting to well up anew.

A choked sob leaves her lips unbidden, and Clarke brings a hand up to her mouth to try and contain her grief. Those were the same words she’d said to Finn, and she fully understood the pain behind them. The fact that she’d done to Bellamy, what Finn had done to her…

He finally looked up at her, his eyes glossy with unshed tears as well, and Clarke can’t contain the pain that shoots through her chest, seeing what she had done to him. She’s never seen him this unguarded before, and it scares her to a degree. He didn’t deserve any of this. She didn’t know what to do or how to show him how wrong she had been, how badly she needs him. How much she loves him.

It had been there for a while, unspoken between them, but definitely present. The mere thought of losing him made her heart hurt, and every little touch sets her skin on fire. They’d been so busy trying to survive and ensure the survival of their camp that they hadn’t had time to explore whatever it was that’s growing between them, and now she’s broken his heart, before she even knew it was hers in the first place.

Clarke started slightly when she felt his hand slide over hers, the texture of his skin rough, but gentle. She hadn’t noticed him move while she was deep in thought, but looked up to see him sitting up on the bed, feet hanging off the side so he could face her. He was close, and something in his expression made her stomach jump up into her throat.

His thumb rubbed her knuckles lightly, and their eyes connected again, and Clarke had to remind herself to breathe. Bellamy’s eyes were full of tears, and his expression looked pained, but he was looking at her the way he used to, before she shot him down and told him to leave. Before she’d broken his heart. So much understanding, and respect in that look. So much love.

“Clarke…” Bellamy started hesitantly, moving his hand to hold hers, his fingers curling to rest inside her palm.

“Please don’t think I don’t value your life, Bellamy” Clarke blurted out, gripping his one hand in both of hers. “I was wrong. Love can be a weakness sometimes, but it can also be a strength!” Her teary eyes looked up into his, pleading. “I didn’t want you to leave. I thought if I turned myself off to emotional connection I would be a better leader for the group, and the alliance would have a better chance of holding. It was wrong to tell you your life was worth risking. I couldn’t have been more wrong. I’m so sor-“

Bellamy swiftly cut her off, reaching over with his other hand to touch her cheek, wiping the tears that had started to trail down her face. With his other hand still holding hers, he gently pulled her forward enough so he could lean in and place his lips on hers.

Clarke didn’t move at first, her eyes still open in shock, and Bellamy didn’t deepen the kiss, keeping his lips gently pressed against hers, waiting instead for her to decide what she wanted. He didn’t pull away until he felt Clarke try to lift her hand out of his, his heart jerking in his chest. This isn’t what she wanted. He kept his eyes closed as he leaned back over, removing his hand from her cheek and breathing out slowly, trying to keep from falling apart.

Both Clarke’s hands came up and touched his face, making his eyes open. She was smiling, tears still running down her face, as she pulled him back in and kissed him soundly. Bellamy found himself smiling into the kiss, his hands finding her sides, one moving up to hold the back of her neck gently. The kiss started out gentle and loving, but turned more passionate as Bellamy opened his mouth and deepened the kiss, Clarke responding immediately by clutching at his shoulder and playing with the hair at the back of his neck.

The moment wasn’t broken until Clarke accidentally touched his wounded side a little too firmly and Bellamy groaned, his face scrunching up as Clarke pulled away. 

“Oh no, Bellamy, I am so sorry!” she gasped, her face flushed, lips slightly swollen, and hair messed up in places

Bellamy chuckled, taking in her appearance, and deciding he liked this look on her very much. “It’s okay, princess, I’ll live.”

Clarke chuckled too, but stood up from her chair. “Lay down on your other side, and move over”. Bellamy laid back down and slid over, Clarke getting up onto the bed beside him, both of them laying on their sides so they could face each other. They just laid in comfortable silence for a few minutes, observing each other. Clarke reached over and took his hand, a sad smile coming over her.

“I never would have forgiven myself if you hadn’t come back.” she whispered, her voice wavering slightly. Bellamy squeezed her hand reassuringly.

“It’s in the past now, Clarke.” He smiled, causing her to smile too. “Besides, I don’t remember you mentioning love while you essentially told me to go die for our mission…” his voice trailed off, but she could see a glint in his eyes.

Clarke opened her mouth, but closed it again, unsure what to say. Bellamy watched her struggle and found himself laughing after a few long moments. Honestly laughing for the first time in so long, it took Clarke by surprise. She smiled brightly and shifted closer to him, curling into his chest while being extra mindful of his side. Bellamy’s laughter subsided and he brought his arm up to drape over her, pulling her a little closer and resting his chin on the top of her head.

“You know…despite how much trouble you always seem to drag me into,” Bellamy started, his chest vibrating in a soothing way, “I’ve personally always seen love as a strength too”.

Clarke smiled, understanding what he was telling her, without actually saying it directly. They weren’t quite ready for that, yet, or maybe they were saving it for a time when their lives are a little more secure, but they had finally reached an understanding of where they stand. Together.

Clarke pulled away just enough to turn her head up and capture Bellamy’s lips in another kiss, this time slow and heartfelt, pouring as much love as she could into it, and feeling Bellamy respond in the same way.

They fell asleep in each other’s arms that night, and for many nights to follow, finding strength in each other.


End file.
